


Hide From Me

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Secret Identity, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Stilinski Family Feels, criminal!stiles, it's not really that angst-y though, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:27:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU<br/>Stiles is a burglar who breaks into Derek's house. Derek hunts him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Locked Doors

It was almost midnight and the house was dark. Armed with a small flashlight, a backpack, and a set of lock picks, he stepped out of his car and walked the last three hundred feet up to the house.  
Stiles Stilinski was dressed all in black. His black hoodie hid his face.

Stiles had done his research. The owner of the house, Derek Hale moved to Beacon Hills a week ago. So far he kept to himself, only ever left his house to grocery shop. Tonight he wasn't home. Derek Hale was staying somewhere else for the night. Stiles had last seen him drive away with a duffel bag on the backseat.

Stiles had been casing Hale’s house the day before, so he knew there was no security cameras – actually there wasn't _anything_ to secure the house, not even a burglar alarm, which was unusual for such a huge house in the outskirts of Beacon Hills. Of course, not a lot of crime went on in the small town but that didn't mean that people shouldn't buy a burglar alarm; Stiles was proof of that.

The lock on the front door was easy to pick for a guy as experienced in lock picking as Stiles.

The door opened smoothly.

"And that, kids, is why you should invest in a security system for your home." Stiles muttered under his breath.

The house was even more remarkable on the inside. The entre was a room dominated by a grand staircase that led up to the first floor.

The house was brand-new and in some rooms there was still a faint smell of fresh paint.

Stiles looked around in the rooms on the ground floor. There wasn't many valuable things, but he did find two silver candlesticks that looked to be at least a hundred years old, so he put them into the backpack together with fifty bucks he'd found in a drawer, and headphones.

It wasn't the most impressive burglary Stiles committed, but it was something.

He was just about to head back out, when the sound of a creaking floorboard reached him. Stiles froze, adrenaline pumping through his system, eyes searching for the source of the sound.

"Don't fucking move." Said a throaty voice from behind him.

 _Shitshitshit, he isn't supposed to be home! Why the fuck is he home?! I_ saw _him leave!_

Stiles was in the kitchen of the house. He eyed the window in front of him. Perhaps if he could get it open, crawl/jump out of it, and reach his car, he could get away before Hale called the cops - aka. Stiles' dad.

 _But that's just assuming that Hale hasn't_ already _called them, and that he won't just run after me, catch me, and kick my ass. Great. Just....great._

As the Sheriff’s son nobody would ever suspect Stiles of robbing the people of Beacon Hills’ houses. It was the perfect cover. But if the police came now, Stiles would be caught red-handed. And it would destroy his father to know that his only child was a criminal.

The backpack in Stiles' hand slipped and crashed to the floor, the silver candlesticks rolling out onto the floor.

He heard a sigh from behind him.

"What's your name, kid?"

 _Kid?_ _I'm nineteen for god's sake! I have my own_ apartment _\- Wait what was his question?_

"Uhm," Stiles' brain collapsed in on itself. "...Miguel."

_Miguel?! How creative, Stiles! Fuck! I should have just said Peter or John or Ja-_

A short burst of laughter from Hale interrupted his thoughts.

"Right. Miguel," A chuckle, then silence. "What are you doing in my house?"

Stiles gulped at the sudden shift from a humorous to deadly tone of voice.

The kitchen was still covered in darkness and Stiles’ back was to Hale, which meant he hadn't seen Stiles' face yet.

_Maybe I can still get out of here without revealing my identity!_

"Th-the stuff I...borrowed are all in that bag -" Stiles pointed at the floor were he had dropped the backpack. "- I would appreciate it a lot if you would just let me get out of here, and I won't disturb you again, I _swear_!"

There was a long moment of silence, in which Stiles shuffled on his feet, and wrung his hands, keeping his back to the other man, and his head down. The silence stretched out.

“Hale…?” Stiles asked, struggling to sound casual.

When Hale finally broke the silence, it was so hushed that Stiles held his breath to listen.

“You know me, but I don’t know you. How is that fair? If I let you go, I could pass you on the street without even knowing… I’m not fond of being kept in the dark like that.” Hale paused. “How about this? I let you go now, you have to promise that if we meet again, you’ll tell me.”

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip nervously.

“And… You won’t call my d- the police? Not tonight, and not if we meet again, right?”

The floorboards creaked as Hale took a step closer to him. Stiles hurried to take a step forward, evening the distance. His face was covered by his hoodie, but this wasn’t the time to take chances.

Stiles heard a dark chuckle from Hale, and then the creaking of floorboards again. The kitchen counter blocked Stiles from distancing himself again.

“I promise to honor our agreement, if you promise to honor it, too.”  
He could feel the warmth of the other’s body along his back now. Stiles’ pulse elevated.

When the other man spoke again, Stiles could feel his breath on the side of the hoodie.

“So, I’ll let you go as long as you promise that if we ever meet again, you’ll tell me that you’re the one who broke into my house, okay?” Hale’s rough voice met Stiles’ ear through the hoodie. Stiles shivered noticeably.

 _Just agree, Stiles, it’s not like we’ll meet again! And even if we do,_ he _won’t know!_

When Stiles answered he was surprised at how steady his voice was. Especially considering the fact that ~~it was a false promise~~ Derek Hale was _everywhere_ , his musky, earthy scent bombarding his senses. “I promise.”

 

When Stiles came back to his own apartment late that night, he jerked off to the memory of Derek Hale pressed against him. And he knew that the promise he had made wasn’t one he could keep.

But it’s not like Hale would ever know!

Right…?


	2. Stiles, the Invincible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is haunted by the memory of Derek. Scott visits him.
> 
> Also, Sheriff Stilinski has been keeping something secret. How will Stiles react?

_A week later_

Last night Stiles dreamed it again. _The Derek Hale Dream_. The dream that was full of broad-shouldered, muscular, gorgeous Hale with a fresh, earthy scent. The dream that had been haunting him for a week, making him wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and with a rock-hard cock.  
And Hale didn’t even have the decency to only haunt him in his sleep either! No! He seemed to be following him everywhere in the real world too! A voice, a scent, a particularly large, muscular man on the corner of Hornes Street who briefly looked like him but really wasn’t him when Stiles looked the ~~second~~ third time.  
It was like Stiles had woken up to a world where _everything_ morphed into some resemblance of Derek Hale!

Every time Stiles saw/heard/smelled something that reminded him of the other man, he was also reminded of what he promised; a promise that was dangerous and had been made in a fit of desperation and the chance of jail time.  
If Stiles ever met Hale again, he would have to tell him that Stiles was the one who broke into his house… Hell, Stiles didn’t even know the man! Maybe Hale just wanted to play with him, and maybe as soon as Stiles came forward, he would betray him! That was a risk that couldn’t be taken.

Those thoughts zipped through his mind every time he turned around.

It got to the point where Stiles couldn’t go outside of his door. He kept inside of his apartment, duvet covering him from toe to chin in a loving, comforting embrace while his gaze was fixed on the television at the foot of the bed, showing re-runs of Game of Thrones.

“Tyrion, Tyrion. We all know you would be the greatest fucking ruler ever.” Stiles mumbled into the teddy bear, Wolfy, he was hugging.

The doorbell rang. Stiles looked automatically at the clock on his bedside table. 6:30pm on the dot.

“SCOTT, LEAVE THE PIZZA OUTSIDE OF THE DOOR, THANK YOU.” Stiles’ gaze drifted once more to the TV.

“Cersei, I can’t stand you. You’re being mean to Tyrion!” He yelled at the screen.

Someone knocked on the front door. Stiles huffed and rolled out of the bed for the first time that day, except for bathroom breaks.

“Scott McCall, see what you did! You made me get out of bed! Are you feeling proud of yourse- UHH PEPPERONI!” Stiles exclaimed in delight as his nose got a whiff of the pizza. His best friend pushed past him into the darkened apartment.

“Urgh! How can you stand that smell?!-” “What _smell_?” “-That smell! It’s _everywhere_! When did you last – oh I don’t know – _open a window_? Jesus!”

After they worked open a window – _“Is that what fresh air is like?”_ – the two of them sat down by the table in the “kitchen” – “The kitchen _has_ to be in the bedroom, it’s a _one-room_ apartment, Scott!” – and shoveled pizza into their mouths.

“So- what have you been doing today?” Scott asked, the food in his mouth slurring his words. “Wait, let me guess! You’ve watched TV. Just like you have the. Last. Two. Days.”

_Wow, Scott has really mastered the perfect combination of Sam Winchester’s bitchface and Dad’s classic “I’m concerned, son”-look. Scary._

Stiles dumped the crust of the pizza slice he’d finished eating.

“You sound like my Dad.”

“That’s because your Dad and I have something in common.” At Stiles’ confused look, Scott exhaled exasperatedly and explained, “It’s concern, Stiles!”

“Oh. _Oh_!” Stiles said with a smile plastered to his face. “You have nothing to be concerned about! I’m great!”

Scott tilted his head.

“Yeah, obviously, because you haven’t left your apartment for _days_!”

“Sam Winchester’s bitchface again.” Stiles mumbled under his breath.

“What?”

“What.” Stiles shrugged.

“Stiles, I can’t help you if you keep pushing me away.” Scott said, defeat evident in his voice. He pushed away from the table, walking away.

“Scott!” Stiles reached Scott as he was almost out of the door. And there it was; Stiles’ first genuine smile in days. Scott smiled back.

No words needed to be said. Scott understood. Stiles was just happy that he visited and offered to help.

 Scott left, feeling a little better. Stiles was going to be okay. But of course that had never been doubted. Nothing could ever defeat Stiles.

 

“ _Stiles_!” Stiles heard a voice yell from the answering machine. “Pick up, son! I know you’re there, because where else would you be!”

Stiles groaned as he was awoken by his father’s voice. Sunlight streamed in from the open window, blinding Stiles.

He sighed and picked up the phone.

“Hey Dad, it’s _really early_!”

“Son, it’s two in the afternoon. I’m worried about y-”

“I know, I know! But you know what? I’m okay! I’m gonna get out of this apartment today! Maybe take a stroll down to the park!” Stiles half-yelled enthusiastically. “Doesn’t that sound nice, Dad?”

The Sheriff grumbled on the other line. “You’re coming over for dinner tonight, Sti-”

“But no, Dad, I have things to do, places to be, people to mee-”

“No, you do not, Stiles, you’re coming home! That’s not up for discussion.”

Stiles was about to object, when the older man hung up.

“Damn.” He protested to the empty apartment.

 

Four hours later, Stiles had showered, thrown on a clean shirt and jeans, discarded the empty pizza boxes and chips bags, and had actually _cleaned up_ in his apartment. Just in case his Dad wanted to come over after dinner.  
Yes, Stiles was fully prepared to make his Dad see just how okay he was. And then, hopefully, he would leave him be.

 

When Stiles opened the door to his childhood home, he hadn’t been prepared for the sight.

“Dad, have you _cleaned_ the house? As in actually _cleaned_?” Stiles yelled into the house. His father emerged a moment later. He looked… different. Kind of… _happy_. A kind of happy that Stiles hadn’t seen him be since before Mom died. The thought made Stiles freeze. Even after the Sheriff gave him a hug and led him into the kitchen where there were three plates on the table, Stiles’ mind was still stuck on how _happy_ his Dad seemed (and somewhere in Stiles’ mind it registered that there shouldn’t be _three_ plates when they were only two people).

His father started blabbing about some problem at work, and didn’t even notice that Stiles was still standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Who is she?” Stiles said just loud enough for his Dad to hear.

His father silenced, and turned around with a sigh, to look at Stiles.

“So, how is this gonna go, huh? You’re going to tell me she’s not replacing Mom, right? But really, she _is_ , because she – your what- your _girlfriend?_ – she’s alive. And Mom’s dead.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that!” His Dad yelled, his voice booming in the small kitchen.

“No one could _ever_ replace your mom, okay?” His Dad shuffled over and threw an arm around Stiles in an awkward hug. Stiles hummed in agreement against the Sheriff’s shoulder.

“Your Mom was the love of my life – and she still is – I’ve just missed… having someone to come home to. Joan is moving in next month. I met her a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t enjoyed the company of a woman for so long…” Stiles’ Dad paused, and when he continued he smirked. “And you have to understand that I have… _needs_ -”

“Oh my god, Dad!” Stiles yelled out, but he smiled too, and felt better.

Stiles flipped through memories of his Mom in his head; when Stiles was nine and the two of them drove to the beach. When they finally got there, it took her almost a half an hour to convince Stiles that no shark would attack him when he went into the water.

Stiles knew that his father would never forget her, but Stiles hadn’t ever really thought of the possibility that he would move on.

_Of course, at some point you have to heal your wounds or they will fester and, in the end, consume you._

But Stiles had never thought that his Dad would just find someone else. _Eventually_ , of course, but a little at a time. This… it was all very sudden.

But if anyone deserved to be happy, it was his Dad.

They sat down at the kitchen table. Stiles noticed the third plate again. He raised an eyebrow at it.

“Is Joan joining us for dinner tonight?”

“What?” – the Sheriff noticed Stiles looking at the third plate – “Oh, no, when you meet Joan, I want you to be comfortable. I’d never just invite her without knowing you’re okay with it!”

“Uhm, okay, so what’s with the extra plate? Are you becoming too old to know how many people are coming over?” Stiles asked with a grin. His Dad swatted at his head, and Stiles dodged.

“ _No_ , definitely not!” The older man said lightheartedly. “We’re having a guest over. He’ll be coming any second. I told him just to come right in.”

“Oh.” Stiles faltered, having hoped it would just be him and his Dad, but he guessed it would be okay having someone else over. “Who is h-?”

His Dad interrupted him with a sudden outburst of welcoming joy, as he stood up from the chair.

“Mr. Hale!”

_Oh fuck._

In the kitchen doorway, clasping his father’s hand in a handshake, was no other than the one who’d haunted Stiles dreams for a week.

Their eyes met across the room, and Stiles knew he was utterly screwed.

_Derek Hale._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGEEEEEER!! xD  
> If you want, you can leave Kudos and a comment, and I would become very happy! :)  
> And Thank You For Reading!


	3. Do I know you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek, Stiles, and Sheriff Stilinski at dinner. What could possibly go wrong?

“-and this is my son, Stiles.”

Stiles shook the offered hand and muttered a quick “How are you, Mr. Hale?”

“Please, call me Derek.” Hal- _Derek_ said, his lips curled up into a smile.

 _How –_ how – _can anyone look that good?!_

Derek’s dark blue shirt hugged his abdomen and arms, showing off his muscles. Not to mention that the color of the shirt brought out the electric blue of his eyes. But that was not to be mentioned, because as soon as Stiles noticed the mesmerizing eye color, he was- well, mesmerized. Stiles hand was still clasped within Derek’s, their eyes still locked on each other, when the Sheriff awkwardly coughed. It broke Stiles’ trance, who quickly looked away from the other man, a blush creeping into his cheeks.

_As long as you don’t speak, he won’t recognize you, right? Great! So… no speaking._

The three of them sat down at the kitchen table, Derek and Stiles across from each other. In the middle of them, on the table, was a big pot.

Stiles watched curiously as Derek tilted his head and sniffed the air.

“Chili Con Carne! How did you know that’s my favorite?” Derek said charmingly. The Sheriff’s eyes brightened.

“You have a good nose! And a great taste in food!” Stiles’ Dad laughed, quickly joined by Derek. The oldest man at the table reached out and pulled the lid off of the pot, quickly filling the whole room with the scent of meat and spices, mixed.

They started eating in a silence that Derek was quick to fill.

“I want to thank you again for having me over on such short notice. As I said yesterday, I want to get to know this town and it’s inhabitants. I figured the best start was to visit Beacon Hills’ beloved Sheriff!”

The older Stilinski grinned.

“Well, as you’ll come to know the people of this town are very welcoming and we were all very excited to hear it when you finally moved here! You own the house in the woods, am I correct?”

“Yes, it was a hell to organize the building of it, but it came together alright!” Derek said.  
Stiles was just learning that Derek Hale had two tones of voice. One tonewas all mild, light, and charming, which he used to get in good with the Sheriff. The other though, Stiles had heard when Derek had interrupted him stealing his stuff. _That_ voice was all deep, rough, raw, and _sexy_ _as fuck-_

 _Eyes on the prize, Stilinski. Wouldn’t want to get distracted, slip up, and_ talk _. Because then it could get ugly, very fast. Like, Derek telling Dad who’s robbing people…_

“So, Stiles,” Derek interrupted Stiles’ thoughts. “Are you in college?”

_Fuckfuckfuckfu-_

“Yes,” Stiles mumbled, making sure to deepen his voice. “I go to the local college.”

Stiles could feel Derek looking at him, which made him feel naked and insecure. Thoughts were ramming through his head; _what if Derek already knows? What will happen if he figures it out? Will he go straight to the police? Will he yell it across the table to my Dad?_

Stiles’ hands felt clammy, and he was almost a hundred percent positive that his face was beat red by now.

“He started there last year. It was about the same time you moved out of the house, if I remember correctly, Stiles…?” Stiles’ Dad remarked.

“Yep, that’s right.” Stiles said softly, forcing a smile to his face.

“Huh, you moved right about the same time as I started looking for places here in town. Where do you live?”

“Browning Street.” Stiles answered, hoping his Dad didn’t notice he was keeping his answers unusually short – not to mention his suddenly deepened voice. Of course, the Sheriff’s _job_ was to be observant; a job he was exceptionally good at, so it didn’t truly surprise Stiles, when his Dad narrowed his eyes on him, giving him a questioning look. Stiles aimed for an immature shrug in return, and hopefully his Dad would take the sudden personality change as merely a side effect of adolescence.

Fortunately, Derek decided to shift the focus from the seemingly – and rightly so – socially awkward Stiles, to Stiles’ father.

“Sheriff, I have heard that the town has a burglar in its midst. I am, as a citizen of Beacon Hills, concerned. Are you any closer to catching the guy?”

Stiles stiffened in his seat as the Sheriff shifted uncomfortably.

“I would like to say that I am, but that’s unfortunately not true.” His Dad continued, “ _The Beacon Hills Burglar_ has yet to leave any trace of who he might be – DNA, fingerprints, nor anything else. He is a cautious bastard that’s for sure.”

Stiles released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Derek was quiet. Stiles shifted his gaze to him, partly to make sure he wouldn’t reveal that he had almost been robbed too, and partly to see his reaction to the information concerning _The Beacon Hills Burglar_ aka Stiles.

Derek showed no reaction.

_Huh. Derek could be a great actor. And an exquisite model! I mean, that body and that face… Yum._

Stiles gave himself a mental slap, reminding him again that whether Derek Hale recognized him or not, meant the difference between jail time and- well, _not_ jail time. ~~Not to mention the difference between having the respect of his father, and losing it.~~

“Well, I’m sad to hear that. But not worried. You’re a good Sheriff.” Derek shrugged. The Sheriff’s face brightened.

A shrill, beeping noise tore through the kitchen, making everyone at the table jump.

“ _Dad_! Haven’t I told you to change the ring tone?! It’s gonna be the death of me!” Stiles yelled to be heard over the repeated scream of the phone.

“Sorry, I’m gonna have to take this! It’s work related.” The older Stilinski explained to the room, before leaving the kitchen.

The sudden quieting of the ringing phone left the kitchen eerily silent. The two men, who were left at the table, looked at each other. And that was it; the meeting of their gazes; blue and brown eyes meeting across the table, was all it took for Stiles to get back to reality, and realize his mistake. A mistake that may make life very difficult for him.

_Shit, I yelled._

Stiles’ eyes widened. He searched Derek’s gaze. Did he know? The panicked thought gnawed at him. Stiles was the first to shield his eyes. Derek still didn’t speak, but Stiles could feel the other man staring. Stiles shivered and quickly covered it up by rubbing his hands on his arms. Hopefully it would make Derek believe the shiver was the result of a (albeit non-existing) chill in the room.

Derek caught Stiles’ gaze by tilting his head and raising an eyebrow.

“Cold?” Derek’s gruff voice asked.

Stiles tried not to give it too much thought, that Derek’s tone of voice was shifted to the rough – _sexy_ – one he used, when he found Stiles in his house, stealing his stuff.

“A bit, yes.” Stiles was back to using a deepened tone, and hopefully it wasn’t too late to correct his earlier slip-up.

Derek stood up without a word and disappeared out of the kitchen doorway to reappear moments later, carrying a leather jacket. Stiles saw as Derek went behind him and felt it as the heavy jacket was draped over his shoulders.

Stiles blushed.

“Better?” Derek asked as he went around the table to sit down again.

“Much,” Stiles muttered, feeling a mix between embarrassed, delighted, and not unlike a young schoolgirl with a crush. “Thank you.”

Derek was silent for a long moment before he opened his mouth and blurted out:

“Do I know you?”

The only reason Stiles didn’t start sputtering and choking out different ways to say “no, you do _not_.” was because he kind of had expected that question all evening.

So, Stiles was quick to mask the panic that was going on inside his head, and chose that moment to laugh out loud.

“I am _pretty sure_ I would remember meeting you before!” He cackled and threw his head back in laughter. When he looked back at Derek, his expression was puzzled, which only made Stiles laugh more.

“You’re kidding me, right?!” Stiles made sure to deepen his voice each time he spoke, even though it was difficult for him to concentrate on his voice, when Derek Hale was sitting in front of him, looking like he was clueless why Stiles found him memorable.  
Instead of voicing an explanation, Stiles just flailed out an arm in the direction of Derek, finding it a reasonable explanation of the memorabilia of the other man.

At Derek’s continued bewildered expression, Stiles huffed.

“ _Derek_!” He exclaimed in a moment of complete lack of mortification and self-control. “You’re like really _hot_.” Stiles gestured at Derek again, who rolled his eyes but with an amused smile on his face.

The Sheriff chose that moment to walk into the kitchen.

“Sorry about that! It was work.” He said as he walked to the table and sat down. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nope.” Stiles said with a grin on his face, and couldn’t help winking playfully at Derek.

 

The night flew by fast after that. Derek left soon after they finished dessert. He thanked them both for their hospitality, and gazed a long moment at Stiles before saying that he was sure they’d meet again very soon (Stiles tried not to think about how much like a threat that sounded, and he would _definitely_ _not_ focus on the fact that it made an enjoyable shiver run through him).

Stiles stayed with his Dad for a bit. They talked about Joan, the Sheriff’s new girlfriend, and Stiles could see how happy she made him; it made him happy too.

When Stiles finally arrived at his apartment on Browning Street, he was ready to just jump into bed and sleep till morning.

But as he rounded the corner of the building, and came closer to his home, he saw a shadowy figure was leaned against his apartment’s door, and if that was who Stiles suspected, then boy, was he in _troubleeeee_ -

_To late to walk back to my car…_

Stiles panicked as he neared his apartment.

 _Damn, it_ is _him. Why is he here? Has he figured out my secret?! Oh, why –_ why _– couldn’t it just have been a mugger outside of my apartment?! Such a cruel world I live in…_

Derek Hale was leaned against the door, his eyes darkened by an emotion Stiles couldn’t – and didn’t want to – analyse.

“Hello Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos make me smile - and make me write more :)


	4. Knowledge is Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The proceedings after Stiles found Derek at his apartment ;)

“Oh, uhm, Derek, hey!” Stiles sputtered nervously. “What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?”  
It was dark where they stood. The only light was from a street lamp a couple of feet from them.

“You told me, remember? At dinner you said Browning Street. It wasn’t difficult to locate your apartment after that.” Derek stepped closer to Stiles.

“Can I come inside?” Derek asked and gestured to the door. Stiles was tempted to say yes, he really was, but it was too risky. So many things could go wrong. He could forget to deepen his voice, and Derek could figure out that Stiles was the _Beacon Hills Burglar._ There’s was too much at stake, and Stiles didn’t know Derek well enough to entrust him with a secret that could get him jail time.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Stiles pushed past the other man, and fumbled with the key to his apartment.  
He could feel it as soon as Derek stepped up behind him. Derek’s body warmth seeped through Stiles’ clothes and warmed his back. Stiles stopped what he was doing when Derek bowed down a bit, and he could feel the man’s breath on his cheek. It made Stiles’ heartbeat speed up and all blood ran south as Derek’s rough voice whispered into his ear.

“ _I know_.”

Stiles’ eyes widened and he couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped him.  
Derek reached down and gripped his hips. Stiles moaned as he felt a hard bulge press against his ass.  
Derek continued to whisper into his ear.

“You broke your promise. I don’t take broken promises lightly.” He emphasized the last word by pushing forward against Stiles’ jeans-covered ass, making the younger man feel the entire length of his cock through the layers of their clothes.

“ _Derek_ , please!” Stiles begged shamelessly. Derek released a hip to reach up and grip a chunk of Stiles’ hair, pulling it back roughly. Stiles whined, but more from the lack of attention his erection was given, than from the hair pulling.

“Won’t you invite me into your home?” Derek purred sweetly into Stiles’ ear. He nibbled at the sensitive tip, and soothed it with his tongue.

“Yes, c-come in.”

Derek released his grip on Stiles’ hair and worked the door open.

When they were on the other side of the firmly closed door, Derek grabbed the collar of Stiles’ shirt, and shoved him against the door. An inch away from Stiles’ lips, Derek paused, and looked into the eyes of the man he pinned to the door. Stiles’ eyes were all black except for a thin ring of a color that reminded Derek of champagne.

The older man released a breath onto Stiles’ slightly parted lips.

“Will this be your first kiss?”

Stiles grinned. “I seriously hope we’re going to do _a lot_ _more_ than just kiss.”

Derek tightened his grasp on the other man’s shirt.

“ _Stiles_.” Derek warned.

“Yes, it will be my first.” Stiles huffed. “I’m kind of like a unicorn, you know? I’m rare like that.”

“And non-existent.” Derek teased.

“If this will be your first kiss,” Derek gazed down at Stiles’ parted lips. “Then I will make sure it’s one you’ll remember.” He leaned down and their lips met. Stiles gripped the back of Derek’s neck, and pulled him closer as Derek slowly licked his way into his mouth. When their tongues met in a slow, wet dance, Derek swallowed down the younger man’s moans.

Stiles clawed at Derek’s leather jacket, and it slid to the floor, quickly followed by Derek’s shirt.

Stiles thrust his hips forward and gasped at the friction, breaking the kiss.

“Derek, clothes off _now_!” He moaned as he once again drove his jeans-clad erection into Derek’s. Derek backed away from Stiles as he slowly undid his belt buckle and slid down his pants’ zipper.

“Holy _fuck_.” Stiles’ jaw dropped as Derek Hale was standing naked in front of him.

“I like that reaction.” Derek grinned at him. Stiles still stared at him wide-eyed.

“Nope.” Stiles mumbled to himself while shaking his head, sounding defeated. “Nope.”

Derek looked perplexed, but still looked ready to tear Stiles’ clothes off. Stiles stopped him by reaching a hand up between them.

“ _No_ , I am so _not_ taking my clothes off with you watching me, when you look like _that_ , and I,” Stiles gestured to himself. “Look like this.”

Derek growled and slowly took a step closer to him; as a predator would, closing in on its cornered prey. The hungry look in Derek’s eyes, as his fingers trailed Stiles’ shirt’s collar, made the younger man shiver in anticipation.  
Derek leaned in to growl in Stiles’ ear.

“Either you take your clothes off, or I will.” He said as a warning. The younger man gave a curt nod, and reaching between their bodies to button down his own shirt.  
Derek latched his mouth onto Stiles’ neck, creating the mother of all hickeys, and leaving Stiles gasping for his breath and thrust his hips into Derek’s, as he discarded his clothes.

When Stiles pulled down his pants and boxers, he moaned loudly when his erect cock slid against Derek’s.

Stiles heard something being opened and then Derek reached around him and he suddenly felt hands prodding at his ass, and without further ado, a lubricated finger slid into him, making him gasp and arch his back.

The finger slid easily inside all the way to the knuckle, and when Stiles met Derek’s gaze he blushed when he saw Derek’s expression when he realized…

“You’ve done this before,” Derek whispered darkly into his ear. “Haven’t you? To yourself?”

When Stiles still didn’t answer or look at him, Derek withdrew the finger and quickly thrust it back in with a second finger. Derek continued to pull the fingers in and out, fucking Stiles with them. Stiles’ head was thrown back against the door, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open.

Derek grabbed a handful of Stiles’ short hair and pulled slightly, and holding Stiles’ gaze as he continued to fuck him with his fingers; watching the pleasured expression on the other man’s face.

Derek grinned mischievously when his fingers stilled while still buried deep inside Stiles’ asshole. Stiles whined and pleadingly looked up at Derek as he tried to grind down onto the fingers, but Derek didn’t let him. Instead he looked into Stiles’ tortured gaze and roughly whispered:

“ _Answer me._ ”

Stiles whined but answered.

“Yes! Yes, okay? Are you happy now?” Stiles said, desperation clear in his voice. “Please, Derek!” He begged, closing his eyes, and clawed at the man’s back, trying to get him to _move_.

When Derek’s gaze once again held Stiles’, the younger man noticed that Derek’s eyes were completely black except for a thin ring of bright blue.

“Tell me, what did you think about while fucking your own fingers?” The dark voice purred, right as Stiles felt the fingers move again; this time in a torturously slow rhythm that made Stiles see stars.

“I th-thought about y- _you_!” He stammered. He heard a dark, pleased chuckle from Derek.

“You thought about me, did you? Imagined my cock, instead of your fingers, stretching you wide?” Stiles nodded frantically at Derek’s words.

Derek sped up the tempo of his fingers and slipped in a third one. When his fingers graced Stiles’ prostate, Stiles would have collapsed if Derek didn’t support him.

Stiles was tempted to hit Derek when the fingers in his ass were pulled out. Suddenly his feet were swept off of the floor, and he was carried to the bed and dumped on it; back on the mattress. The bed dipped as Derek joined him. Derek’s sparked with lust when he took hold of Stiles’ thighs, and spread them; exposing the slick hole to his gaze.

After Derek smoothed the condom over his cock, he pushed into Stiles slowly, a low groan escaped from his mouth. Stiles felt his hole expand around Derek’s cock. He grasped at the headboard above him, using the leverage to push Derek deeper inside.

When Derek was completely embedded within Stiles, he stopped; he wanted the younger man to have time to prepare.

“Derek, _move_!” Stiles yelled.

Derek grunted, took hold of Stiles’ hips, and withdrew his cock, only to slam it ruthlessly in again.

“Derek!” Stiles moaned, pushing himself down on Derek’s cock each time Derek thrust into him. Derek leaned down and their lips met in a hungry kiss.

“Is this like you imagined while you fucked yourself?” Derek’s raw voice asked when their lips broke apart.

“It-it’s better!” Stiles moaned. “ _Please_ , Derek, faster!”

Derek thrust into him, hitting Stiles’ prostate, making him scream out in pleasure, as he sprayed cum over his stomach.

Derek slammed into him a few more times before finally coming.

Derek collapsed next to Stiles on the bed. He gazed over at the younger man who looked like the personification of fucked-out. At that, Derek smirked in satisfaction.

“Hey Derek?” He heard Stiles murmur. Derek hummed.

“You’re gonna stay the night, right?”

Derek took a pillowcase off of a pillow and started cleaning Stiles and himself.

“Try and stop me.” He said and grinned at the pleased expression on Stiles’ face.

They fell asleep shortly after; Stiles curled up against Derek, both of them wearing peaceful expressions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the last chapter! Hope you enjoyed! I certainly enjoyed writing it :D  
> Oh yeah and that was the first smut I have ever written... Tell me if I did okay? :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters.


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